Bedtime Stories
by brickroad16
Summary: When Chuck gets injured and Ellie prescribes rest and time with his girlfriend, Sarah is dismayed to find out that he is an avid believer in bedtime stories.


A/N: So, this was my entry for the Who Are You? Challenge. I don't really know what's going on with that, but I decided to post it because (a) I haven't posted anything in a while, and (b) I wanted to give you all a present because I'm in a good mood now that I'm officially on spring break! Lol.

I've received a lot of PMs in the past week. I promise I'll respond to them; it's just been a crazy week!

* * *

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, _ow_!" Chuck exclaims, the pain in his voice escalating with each utterance.

Ellie rolls her eyes. "You're fine," she tells him as she works gently at stitching up the gash on his forehead. "I numbed it. Just take a deep breath and try to relax."

"It still hurts," he complains with a petulant frown.

Ellie pauses in her work to shoot her brother an incredulous look. "You're imagining it. Now _relax_."

Sarah, watching this exchange with her arms crossed and an amused smile, moves beside the table Chuck's sitting on, slips her hand into his, and gives it a light squeeze. She's rewarded with one of those lopsided smiles she values so much.

"Hey," she says quietly.

"Hey, yourself."

She glances up at his sliced forehead. Ellie's cleaned off the blood, and her stitching, though only half-done, is nice and even. At his request, thinking it'll make him look like Darth Maul, she's even done it in red thread.

"It looks better," she comments.

"Does it?" he asks.

Sarah nods. "Uh-huh. How do you feel?"

"Better," he admits. "Now."

Sarah blushes and, when she looks away, her gaze meets Ellie's. The doctor's not even trying to hide her grin.

"So how'd this happen anyway?" Ellie asks curiously.

Sarah looks back at Chuck with raised eyebrows. His befuddled expression tells her that he has no clue how to explain this. Sarah sighs. She can't tell Ellie the truth – that her brother's a spy, that she wasn't looking out for him and, because of that, he slammed his head against an archway while on the chase during a mission. She can't tell her that.

So instead, she blurts, "Video games."

Ellie looks perplexed. "Video games?"

"Yeah, we were playing uh, Wii tennis. A little too enthusiastically, right, Chuck?" He laughs softly, and she continues, "And _bam_! I just . . . smacked him right in the forehead. I think he was more upset about the remote than his head, actually."

"That's my brother," Ellie laughs as she ties off the stitching. "There," she pronounces. "All done."

"Thank you, sis," Chuck breathes in relief. "I thought I'd never be done."

"And you were such a good little boy," she teases. "Want me to get you a lollipop?"

He sticks his tongue out at her, making the girls laugh.

"All right, get out of here, little brother," Ellie says with a smile. "Go spend some time with your girlfriend. _Real_ time," she chastises, "not playing some video game."

"Don't worry," Sarah assures her, "I'll keep an eye on him."

Ellie smiles. "Good. Make sure he gets rest. If his headache comes back, give him two aspirin. Three if it's bad."

"Got it," Sarah nods.

Chuck gives his sister a mock salute. "Thanks, doc."

Ellie walks away with a laugh, sending a wave over her shoulder. "See you guys later," she calls.

When she disappears from view, Sarah turns to Chuck. "Ready to get out of here?"

"You betcha."

Hand-in-hand, they walk out of the ER. Sarah stays quiet, because there are a million things running through her head right now. Like how she really should be keeping her distance, should have high-tailed it out of here as soon as she ascertained that he – the _asset_ – was okay. Yet she's still here, still holding his hand, can't seem to tear herself away. It's like she's addicted to his companionship.

To ease her discomfort, Sarah looks up at him and runs a thumb gently across the stitching. "You look like Frankenstein's monster," she chuckles as they walk out into the fresh October air.

Chuck screeches to a halt on the sidewalk and turns to look at her in surprise. "Sarah Walker," he says in wonder. "Was that a cultural reference?"

She pushes him playfully on the shoulder. "Shut up." Then a thought strikes her. "Ooh, maybe that's what you can go as for Ellie and Awesome's Halloween party next week!"

"Ha ha," he fake laughs. "Very funny." She laughs, a delightful sound that peals through the street. He squeezes her hand and says, "Besides, I've already found us costumes."

"'Us'?" she questions with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course. This is our third Halloween together. It's time we have a couple's costume."

"But Morgan's going to be devastated when he finds out you're not going to be the sandworm again."

"Nah. We talked about it, and we're moving on," he shrugs. "He's got Anna now."

Sarah swallows. Glancing up at him timidly, she poses, "And you've got me?"

Cracking a shy smile, he gives her hand another squeeze. "Yeah," he replies softly. "I do."

* * *

Fortuitously, there's a monster movie marathon on TCM that night. Sarah takes him back to her hotel room, where they eat Chinese take-out and watch three-and-a-half hours of Halloween movie madness featuring Lon Chaney, Bela Lugosi, and Boris Karloff. Chuck, who adores these old films, jumps at the opportunity to introduce her to their iconic roles.

In the middle of _Frankenstein_, he reaches up to rub his forehead.

Sarah slaps his hand away gently. "Don't mess with it. You'll pull out the stitches."

"Okay, fine," he smiles. Gesturing emphatically to the screen, he protests, "But you can't tell me anymore that I look like _that_ guy."

"I suppose not," she laughs.

"No," he agrees. "I'm much handsomer."

A soft smile on her face, she says quietly, "Yeah, you are."

Chuck, his eyes twinkling, sneaks a glance at her. He leans back against the headboard, smiling to himself.

A slight blush suffuses Sarah's cheeks, and she's grateful he doesn't push the topic. Changing the subject, she asks, "How's your headache?"

He swallows his mouthful of rice before replying, "Better. I think the Chinese and the movies are helping more than the aspirin."

"Yes," she chuckles, "the age-old cure."

"Hey, these are tested and true methods."

"Mmm-hmm. Tested by whom?"

"Me and Morgan."

"Oh, I should have known." She pops a piece of chicken into her mouth. "Just don't let Ellie know this is how I'm taking care of you. She'll revoke my girlfriend privileges."

Chuck laughs and tells her, "Your secret's safe with me."

Sarah glances over at him, realizing just how much she wants this scene to come true. She wants to make him laugh, wants to be the one to take care of him, wants to be the one he sees when he wakes up for a few minutes in the middle of the night. She loves nights like this – lazy, quiet, easy nights that feel so, so right.

It's not until this moment that she recognizes just how effortless loving him has become.

Chuck sighs, letting his lips sputter as he exhales.

"Tired?" Sarah asks, brushing a curl off his forehead.

"Yeah," he nods. "And full."

"Do you want to go to sleep? Maybe I should drive you home."

"No," he shakes his head. Retreating, he says quickly, "I mean, I don't want to leave yet. If that's all right with you."

"Of course."

They exchange a shy smile, and Sarah turns back to her dinner. She should have kept her distance, not brought him here in the first place. So maybe he shouldn't stay, but that doesn't mean she wants him to go.

But ten minutes into _The Black Cat_, Chuck's eyes start to droop. She bumps him gently on the shoulder.

Her voice is quiet, almost timid, when she asks, "Hey, do you want to stay?"

Chuck's eyes fly open. He sits up straight and rubs the sleep away. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She reaches for his hand, slips her fingers in between his. "It'll be easier than taking you home. Besides, there's no reason not to."

Not a complete lie, since she does have extra clothes of his in a drawer just in case they ever have to do this (shore up the cover, she tells herself). But they've been at this for two years now, and she finds it hard to care what other people think of their relationship. All she cares about is how he feels, if he's comfortable, if she's giving him what he needs.

But it's a lie in the sense that there's one huge, glaring reason not to.

It's the supercomputer stuck inside his brain, the one that gives him abilities she can barely imagine.

Chuck, mesmerized, seemingly oblivious to the conflict within her, lets his fingers glide over hers. "Okay," he finally murmurs. "On one condition."

She narrows her eyes suspiciously at him. "What?"

There's a playful smirk on his lips when he replies, "I want a bedtime story."

* * *

Sarah Walker has been in many compromising positions, but this may be the mother of them all. She's reclining against the headboard, wearing nothing but a tank top and boy shorts, and Chuck, in his boxers and undershirt, is lying against her. His head is pillowed on her chest; she has one arm wrapped around his chest and the fingers of her other hand are tangled in his hair. She likes touching his hair, likes the feel of his soft curls against her fingertips.

Her instincts are screaming at her, telling her she definitely shouldn't be this up close and cuddly with her asset. She thinks of how Casey would react if he knew, how his eyes would bug out and his trigger finger would twitch. She thinks of Beckman, and how she'd get a thorough scolding if her superior would ever find out. She thinks of her father, the man who'd warned that love was the one thing that could undo any great con-artist. He hadn't exactly been talking about her current line of work, but it applies nonetheless.

Her heart, though, is saying something completely different. It's whispering words of courage, of strength, of patience. It's telling her that this man in her arms is completely worth all the pain and the heartache and the doubt. That he's not one to leave her high and dry at the moment she decides to risk her heart. That he'll be by her side through thick, through thin, through the rollercoaster that defines their relationship.

Breathing deeply, she strokes his curls. "I don't know what you want me to say," she says, embarrassed.

"Anything," he answers. "You can tell me Cinderella if you want to. Just tell me a story. It'll help me fall asleep, and I like hearing your voice."

She blushes profusely, profoundly thankful that he can't see the pink suffusing her cheeks. Ignoring that comment, she retorts teasingly, "You don't need a story to fall asleep. You were doing perfectly fine on your own fifteen minutes ago."

He swivels his head, arching his back to shoot her a dazzling, upside-down smile, one she couldn't refuse if she tried. "Please?" he implores, his puppy dog eyes boring into her more somber ones.

"Fine," she replies with an eye roll. "But don't complain when you find out what a bad storyteller I am."

Chuckling, he promises not to, closes his eyes, and settles back against her. She sighs heavily, thoughtfully.

Twisting a ringlet around her forefinger, Sarah begins softly, "There once was a beautiful princess, blessed with a magical ability to heal. People from all over the land came to her, and she would touch them, take away their pain. What they didn't know was how her magic worked. They didn't know that every time she touched someone, the princess felt all of their pain."

She ceases when Chuck stirs slightly, but he quickly settles into a more comfortable position.

Swallowing, she continues, "Though the people greatly admired her, they also feared her, for they knew nothing of magic. Because of this, the princess was lonely. One day, a brave blacksmith arrived in her kingdom, bringing with him his apprentice, injured in the forge. The blacksmith, by journeying to the castle, had hoped that the princess would heal the apprentice."

"Did she?" Chuck interrupts. "Did she heal him?"

Sarah's taken aback by his interest. His eyes are still closed, and his breathing is so even that she had almost guessed that he was asleep.

"She tried," she answers. "But when the blacksmith saw the pain in her eyes, he begged her to stop. Out of all the people she had helped, he was the only one to recognize her suffering. He was the only one to see her for her true self.

"The princess, touched and yet curious, said to the blacksmith, 'You must have many men work for you. Why is it that this one is so special to you?'

"The blacksmith thought for a moment before replying, 'He makes me laugh.'

"The princess smiled. 'That is a quality you cannot afford to lose,' she said. 'I will look after your apprentice, and make sure that he recovers.'

"The blacksmith, worried for the princess, asked, 'Will you promise not to use your magic, not to hurt yourself to heal him?'

"His concern warmed the princess's heart, for no one had ever before shown her such affection. She promised the blacksmith, saying, 'You and he will be guests in my kingdom until he recovers. The two of you will be welcome here for as long as you live.'"

"So what happened?" Chuck asks with interest. "Did the apprentice recover?"

"Yes," Sarah assures him as she continues to stroke his hair. "He did, with the help of the princess's compassion. She invited the apprentice and the blacksmith to stay at her castle, gave them the best care that was available. While the apprentice regained his strength, the blacksmith would walk the castle grounds or pore over the books in the library.

"The princess was fascinated by the blacksmith. She gave him a tour of the castle and the grounds, told him the history of the land, even spent time with him reading in the library. But what she appreciated most about him was his mind. They talked about books, about ideas. He was the first person she had met who saw beyond what she could do and instead saw her for who she was."

"He respected her," Chuck mumbles sleepily.

"That's right," she murmurs into his hair. "He did. And he loved her. He loved her because she cared for others more than she cared for herself, because she was too unassuming to see what she really deserved, and because she could make him feel like the world was his. She set his heart on fire."

"And she loved him, too."

"Yes. She loved him very much. She loved him for his kind heart, and the way he understood her without needing to say anything at all."

Grimacing, Chuck squirms. "I sense something bad coming."

Sarah chuckles softly. "The king and queen were good rulers. They protected their people, but they didn't always understand their daughter. They didn't understand her gift. And they didn't understand her love for this man, whom they saw as beneath her.

"'He is a simple blacksmith,' the queen said. 'Certainly not fit for a princess.' And so she and the king forbade them from marrying.

"The princess was lost. She thought about running away with the blacksmith, escaping to a far-off land where no one had ever heard of them, but what kind of leader would she be for her people if she simply abandoned them? The blacksmith, too, felt this decision acutely. He wanted to be better for her, and he began to wish that he was a great knight, brave in battle and renowned for his heroic and daring exploits.

"But when he saw her sorrow, he knew that they could not simply run away. After all, the greatest joy comes out of the greatest hardships. One night, he found her walking in the gardens, her eyes wet with tears. He'd never seen her cry before, but he swiftly took her in his arms and held her. Just his embrace was enough to calm her down.

"He kissed her softly on the forehead and said, 'You could have anything in the world if you so desired, but I stand before you and offer you my heart. I am a simple man, though, and I don't have much to give beyond a comfortable home.'

"'That is not true,' the princess replied. 'For you are the only one who can give me happiness.'"

"Did they get married?" Chuck interrupts with a smile.

"Yes, they did," Sarah assures him. "The princess went to live with the blacksmith in a small village, where he taught her about the forge, and she started a library. The apprentice recovered, too, and he and the blacksmith became celebrated throughout the land for their fine craftsmanship."

"And the king and queen?" Chuck prompts. "Did they reconcile with the princess?"

Sarah nods. "Yes. They were stern, but not cold-hearted, and they soon realized just how much they missed her. They invited her back to the castle, but she declined, preferring to stay with her new husband. Even though it was far, the king and queen made sure to visit often, especially when it came time to visit their first granddaughter. And the princess and blacksmith found life beyond their wildest dreams." She takes a deep breath. "And they lived happily ever after."

Grinning, Chuck opens his eyes and flips onto his side to look at her. "See?" he says. "You're a fantastic storyteller."

"Obviously not, because you're not asleep," she teases.

In response, he slides under the covers, sidles up against her, and holds his arm open in invitation. With a sigh, Sarah joins him, snuggling against his lean, warm frame.

"Thanks for the story," he murmurs. "And for taking care of me."

Nuzzling into him, she replies softly, "You're welcome, Chuck."

She listens to his breathing, feels his chest rise and fall evenly, and she's drifting off to sleep when she hears him whisper, "You set my heart on fire, Sarah."

Tightening her hold on him, she smiles against his t-shirt and says, "So tell me about these Halloween costumes."


End file.
